Forlorn Devotion
by ConstellationxSirius
Summary: Dumbledore once said that Tom Riddle had no friends, but did he have a forbidden love - or is Bellatrix holding her breath for nothing? Follows the last few days of Tom Riddle's Hogwarts experience and his transformation into Lord Voldemort.
1. Most Loyal Servant

_Hey guys! I got this idea from several challenges, notably just a spark I had then pushed into action by kitty-re's "I never loved you" challenge and elladora lestrange's challenge, "Forbidden love." Slightly AU, slightly inspired by Meatloaf's song "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad," enjoy!_

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_"But you've been cold to me so long  
I'm crying icicles instead of tears"_

_- Lyrics by Jim Steinman_

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Bellatrix watched in awe as Tom Riddle moved so gallantly among his peers. They all looked up to him, but how could they not? He was intelligent, he had unparalleled good looks, he was charming. He was mysterious, he was majestic, he was dark. He had followers, but never any friends. Bellatrix saw this in him, and only saw the cunning of this choice. Friends were a weakness. A downfall. Friends were dangerous.

And yet she could not help the feelings she harbored. The more than friendly feelings. She understood that he could never love her back, and yet that is what she thrived for, and that is also what she loved him for: his inability to love.

When they were with the motley crew he had given the name of the 'Death Eaters', the misfits and the power junkies of Hogwarts, she was always closest by his side. He openly admired her for her abilities, but nothing more. She was merely a rather skillful pawn in his much greater schemes. He could use her and she would merely be thrilled at the prospect that he would choose her to do his bidding.

One particularly sunny summer day out in the grounds, Tom Riddle led Bellatrix back into the dark and cold dungeons. She did not ask why, but merely waited. The common room was completely empty. Not even a Slytherin wanted to sit in the dungeons on a day such as this.

Tom walked over to the fire and stood there, folding his arms behind his back, and stared into the billowing flames. Walking all the way across the room and sitting at the farthest possible chair from the fire, he began.

"You've been a good servant," he said, looking at Bellatrix. "You've been very, very good." Bellatrix smiled with delight. "Anything to make you happy, anything," she crooned.

"I know. You're very good, very good," he repeated, more to himself. "That is why I'm going to trust you with something. Something very, very important. Do you understand the weight of this decision?" he asked, looking deep into her eyes.

"Oh, yes!" she said at once, her cheeks reddening under his watch, "I live to serve you, my lord," she added quickly. Tom got up from his chair and walked away, staring at the stone crevices in the wall.

"Very good," he repeated yet again, now commenting on her loyalty. He seemed deep in thought. "I would not trust you with this if I did not trust you completely, and trust in your abilities, Bellatrix. Know that, and take it as a warning. I shall be very mad if you fail," he said, still not looking at her. "You have a vault at Gringotts, I trust?" he said to the wall.

"Yes, yes of course. A present, once I became of age," she added hastily, "the highest security imaginable."

Without warning, he walked away. Bellatrix did not know whether to follow, so she sat quite still, barely daring to breathe. What could Tom be trusting her with? She did not have long to ponder this, though, for he had returned, holding some polished form in his hands. He clutched onto it with a greedy look in his eyes. Something that made his face less attractive, yet Bellatrix only saw stunning beauty.

"This is, perhaps, one of my most prized possessions," he announced, almost glaring into her eyes. Bellatrix dared not to break this uncommon yet beautiful eye contact, and had not yet been able to differentiate what Tom was holding. Without handing her the form, he began to speak again, more urgently this time. "I need someone who will guard this possession with their life. It is imperative that it stay safe, stay hidden. I want you to put this in your vault at Gringotts personally, as soon as is possible," he said. "Can you do this?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"You will guard your wand with your life from the moment this reaches the vault, do you understand?" he asked again.

"Yes," she breathed, inching closer to him.

He leaned forward. "You will never, ever, take anyone to that vault. Not one of my followers, not your husband shall you ever choose one, not even me. Do you understand?" he asked once more.

"Yes," she mouthed, inching ever closer.

"And finally," he said, trying to express the necessity of this last condition, "You will tell me the very instant you suspect a possible breaking in to that vault. Any time you have an inkling that something from that vault has been stolen, no matter how harsh the repercussions upon yourself may be. Do you, Bellatrix Black, understand?" he said firmly.

"Yes," she said, with a ringing finality. Bellatrix felt a warmth enter their gaze, that was out of place for Tom, a look she had never seen enter his gaze, mingled with relief and some other emotion. Without breaking gaze, he handed over the gleaming object in his hands. Looking down, he looked as if it pained him to part with it. Bellatrix felt the irregularly shaped object slip into her hands. For the first time, she examined it closely. It had rounded edges and a thick stem, it gleamed, even in the darkness, and had brilliant engravings etched in the sides. Where it had no engravings, it had two more thick stems protruding from the body; handles. It was pure gold.

"Badgers?" Bellatrix questioned as she looked at the engravings closer, her face showing controlled awe. "Is this…" she began, then looked back up into Tom's, her eyes brimming with moisture, "Is this Helga Hufflepuff's?" she asked, her voice unsteady, marveling in what she was holding. Without confirmation, Tom merely replied, "Go now. I'm calling a very important meeting later tonight, I'd like you to try and be back in time, but if not I understand. See to it you place this," he indicated the cup, "as hidden as possible, even within the vault. I am telling you, I want you to _personally _place it in the vault. If you fail, I shall not be forgiving." His eyes were shifty and crazed, his voice anxious yet firm. Bellatrix would not dare disobey.

"Of course, of course," she said quickly, her eyes wide. "Anything, anything…" The curious look reentered Tom's eyes, and for a moment Bellatrix thought she saw something there. She couldn't concentrate on anything but him. Without realizing she was moving, she subconsciously leaned forward. Could she tell him? Would he still treat her the same if he knew how she felt? Although, of course he could tell what she was feeling, could see the thoughts inside of her that never strayed from him. Bellatrix and Tom were both inclined toward one another, and for a moment Bellatrix had the insuppressible urge to lean forward and touch him, to push her lips against his. She couldn't think. Did she have the nerve? It wasn't even about nerve anymore. She was in a trance. She couldn't think reason, she couldn't stop herself. And then…

"Go now," he repeated in a lulling and intoxicating voice, and Bellatrix, still mystified, stood up and walked toward the door, her fingers white from clutching the cup so firmly; Tom's face still ingrained in her brain.

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_Sooo, comments, concerns? I know it's a little short. Let me know how I'm doing. Comments are love._


	2. The Meeting

_Okay guys, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it! I've got an idea of where I'm going and I hope you'll all like it._

_On with the story!_

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"I've called this meeting in great haste," Tom began, "because it is extraordinarily important." He stopped and looked around the room. He saw many of his loyal followers; those lusting for power, those who supported his cause, the rebels and the bullies.

"As you have realized," he continued, "we are nearing the completion of our last year." Tom noticed a shock of dark hair and sharp features glancing around the Slytherin Common Room anxiously, where he had placed the usual enchantments to prevent their being overheard. Next to him, a similar face sat looking eagerly back at Tom. "This means we must begin looking forward to the greater good." The boy continued to shift in his seat. "What is it, Rodolphus?" Tom asked.

Looking alarmed at being called out, he lied, "Nothing." His eyes were wide and he froze, locked under Tom's scrutiny.

"Now, now, Rodolphus," Tom said condescendingly. "Don't you lie to me. Tell the truth!" He penetrated Rodolphus with his eyes, clearly visualizing Bellatrix' own dark eyes through his. "Ah," was all he said. Then he turned away and continued.

"First off," he said, "You'll notice I've only invited those of you whom I find most supporting - most likely to go to great lengths to save the world from this muggle filth. To attain righteousness," he spoke as if caressing a small child. He appeared to drift away with his thoughts. "Who among you are not ready for this feat?" he asked, staring at the wall.

Nobody moved.

"You're sure then?" he asked. "For you cannot turn back once you take this step. I shall not be forgiving to those who commit themselves only to back out. We are going to be opposed, there is no doubt, and therefore there will be great secrecy. I urge you, if you cannot make this commitment with no hesitation, leave now." When nobody moved, he turned around and smiled at his followers.

"You shall now prove yourselves." Tom turned around, and eyed the room. "Malfoy," he said. "Come here."

A young man with a head filled with bright blonde hair and with extremely fair skin stood up confidently and strode over to where Tom was standing. His face was filled with eagerness, obviously pleased to be chosen specifically by his leader.

"Hold out your arm," Tom said lazily. The blonde haired boy did as he was told. "You commit yourself to me? I have your full loyalty?" Tom asked as he trailed a finger over Malfoy's arm idly. "Tell the truth," he coaxed. The boy nodded. "Well, then…" Tom trailed off. He pulled his wand from his pocket and held it over Malfoy's arm. He waved his wand with a careless flick, and Malfoy's stoic expression broke like glass.

Malfoy's eyes started to water.

His skin was bubbling. Small welts were erupting out of his arm, discoloring, then turning pale and flattening once again. The final result was astounding. There, where the skin on his arm had previously been milky white and pale, a dark mark had been created and was raised slightly over the rest of the skin.

A snake was ingrained on Malfoy's arm, trapped within a lifeless skull. For several seconds it writhed seemingly painfully within the skull, then slowed to a halt.

Tom pulled his wand away and Malfoy crumpled to the ground. He began to whimper and Riddle looked away in disgust. Pain was for the weak.

"Who's next?" Tom asked the moderately large group, and none seemed especially eager to experience this form of dedication just yet. "No one?" Tom asked, and the crowd grew anxious. They knew this lack of enthusiasm would not make him happy.

A boy who looked rather like a swollen man stepped forward. He had bulging biceps and a tall stature. His expression was impossible to read.

"Ah. Good man, Goyle," Tom cooed. He didn't have to ask him to hold out his arm. When Tom had waved his wand over it and the skin began to morph, Goyle's face barely showed any change from his previous stoic expression.

When the skin finally settled, Goyle merely stepped back into the crowd stared at his arm, mild curiosity lighting his eyes.

The next couple to receive mark were various in their reactions. Some cried, some merely stood there and took it – those would be rewarded, and one fell to their knees whimpering next to Malfoy.

When all had been branded, he turned his wand upon his own arm. He felt a slight tingling sensation but most was dulled for he did the spell differently. He knew he would be loyal to himself; there was no need to purposefully inflict pain upon his own body. The snake curled a little then settled. He kept his face a lazy mask.

"I have branded you all with my own special Dark Mark. When you touch it with your forefinger, I will know exactly where you are. It will act as a calling mechanism. Unless upon direct orders or dire circumstances, I shall be the only one to use it," he looked around at all of the pale, sweaty faces. One pair of shifty eyes more deliberately than the others. He touched his mark with his long, slender forefinger and the room shuddered. Several people grasped their arms as the snakes wriggled again. "If you choose not to respond to the Dark Mark and come to me at the first chance, I shall not be forgiving. Not in the slightest." He turned to face the wall again.

"And from this moment on," he said more loudly, "you shall never again know me as Tom Marvolo Riddle," there was a slight murmuring that died down at once. "If anyone ever mentions that name again, or even think of addressing me as such, once more, I shall not be forgiving. I shall now be known as 'Voldemort.'" There was no noise. If he had not known better, he would have thought he were alone in the common room. "You may leave."

As he stood and stared at the wall, he heard all of the footsteps hurry in various directions. Only one person remained after two minutes. Someone dawdling slowly behind, hoping to be alone with Voldemort. Not a common goal, but also not uncommon.

"What is it, Rodolphus?" Voldemort asked, not turning from facing the wall. The stones were cracking slightly, the walls were faintly moist.

"It's just," he said, "did you send Bellatrix somewhere?" he asked quickly. Not many people felt at ease around him. "I know she'd never miss a meeting, unless…" he paused, and Voldemort looked around to see his anxious eyes, "unless you sent her."

"I do believe this matter does not concern you, Rodolphus," Voldemort said, almost coldly. "Go to bed," he added, "you look tired." And Rodolphus _did _look tired. His eyes were weary and there were dark purple bags beneath them, almost looking like small, well placed bruises.

Rodolphus did not question or resist. "Yes, master," he responded as he turned around, although his eyes did gain a new kind of energy that Voldemort had not seen all night. He disliked this look in his eyes, but disregarded it and sat down by the fire. He wasn't even faintly tired. He sat, watching the flames billow and crackle behind the grate. Waiting.

Then, finally, she was back.

"Tom?" her voice called loudly across the room. He twitched.

Taking the hint, she lowered her voice as she came to sit near him. She was one of the few who didn't seem to cower and shudder away from him, which made him uncomfortable. In fact, she seemed to be drawn in by his very presence. He had only ever seen her act this way to Rodolphus, and even then he disliked it. "What are you doing up?" she asked, although she knew.

"How did it go?" he ignored her. She didn't look discouraged.

"Excellently," she said, looking proud of herself. "I got there in no time at all. I took the train out of Hogsmeade, of course I had to use the Imperius curse a couple of times," she said airily, her expression rather excited. He stifled a smile and listened intently. It was of dire importance that this was done correctly. "Then once I got to Gringotts some filthy goblin transferred my savings and such to a high security vault and I personally went in and put the cup on the very top of the pile. He closed the vault and then I came back."

Tom sat very still, reviewing her story for mistakes or ways that anyone could penetrate the vault, but he held high stock in Gringotts.

Bellatrix was watching him intently, waiting for praise. "Tom?" she asked at his vacant expression. "Why wouldn't you keep something like that for yourself? What use will it have in my vault?" she asked.

"It doesn't concern you at the moment." He felt triumphant. It was done. Bellatrix looked at him fixedly, slightly put off. She appeared to still be waiting for approval while battling his rejection for trust.

His eyes peeled away from the fluttering flames to look at Bellatrix fiercely. "You've done well, Bella," he said quietly. "You've done very, very well." Her eyes brightened.

"Why of course, master; but anything to serve you!" she exclaimed, her voice rising again.

"You've missed several important things while you were gone, but I intended to tell you separately," he said, and her eyes widened at this news and gained a strange look. He wished desperately to know what she was thinking at times such as these when her reactions weren't quite normal, but she was a talented Occlumens. He wondered briefly what she wished to hide.

"First," he said, and reached out to take her hand. Her eyes widened and her hand tightened around his. Her breath caught. Her expression shifted, however, when he flipped her hand over and wrenched his fingers from hers to grasp her wrist. Her eyes held a strange tinge of bewilderment. "Can I trust you to stand by my side forever?" he asked, and hoped she understood his meaning.

"Yes," she murmured quietly, staring into his eyes. "Always."

Voldemort took out his wand. Waving it over her arm, she didn't even flinch. She merely stared into his eyes. He looked down pointedly. Her gaze followed.

"Oh!" said Bellatrix, letting out a little squeak. Voldemort dropped her arm and her expression dropped. She took a finger and touched the new mark on her arm. "It's beautiful," she said.

"It's a calling device," he explained. "You'll feel it, when I need you; now that we're going to be leaving Hogwarts. It works both ways. All of the Death Eaters have one. If you ever need to call a meeting or are in any harm, you just touch it, and I'll know," he said. "We all will," he added hastily.

She continued to stroke it with her forefinger. It wriggled restlessly but had not settled yet and therefore had no effect on his own mark. The bright fire shimmered off of her bright, large eyes.

"And another thing," he said, snapping her out of her maze. "I'd like for you to never call me Tom again. Ever. I shall now be known as 'Voldemort,'" he told her. "Can you do that?"

"Of course," she said, resuming her tracing. "Whatever you'd like," she said.

"Good," he said, and settled back in his chair. He looked down at her as she caressed her mark. The fire accentuated her features well, bringing out the dark tones to her skin, the curls of her thick hair, the curve of her mouth. Her eyes were glossy, and her cheeks slightly pink, contrasting with her black and green school robes.

On an impulse, he grabbed her hand with his long fingers; this time, not to desecrate her arm. "Let me show you something?" he asked, dragging her from the comfortable chair near the fire.

She didn't speak, her breathing was hitched. She merely stood and let him lead her over to the entrance of the Slytherin common room, and out into the dark and deserted hallway.

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_Sooo, love it, hate it? Review? **Bella: "Imperio!" **Oh no, Bellatrix just put you under the Imperius curse and is making you review! At least she's finally doing something for the betterment of others!_


	3. Secrets

_Okay guys, I feel pretty good about this one! I won't hold you, enjoy!_

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He didn't realize what he was doing until after the fact. He kept a firm grip on her hand as Bellatrix was trying to keep up with him. He almost forgot the time.

"Tom?" a smooth yet stern voice rang throughout the corridor.

He cringed inwardly at the use of the name he shed earlier that night. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir?" he said politely, although he knew that his careful flattery never quite worked on Dumbledore. He looked sickly, worn down from stress. His hair was the same shade of determined white, his half moon spectacles sitting awkwardly on his crooked nose.

"What are you doing out of bed? You do realize it is fifteen minutes after curfew, I trust." Dumbledore had always kept a wary eye upon him, never trying to conceal his mistrust; ever since that first night they met at the orphanage and Tom had revealed a bit too much of himself.

"Well Professor," he said, thinking fast, "I was doing my Prefect patrols and I caught Bellatrix here out of bed," he said, and smiled to himself.

Dumbledore eyed him curiously.

"And you were planning on taking her for a stroll around the castle? I do believe the entrance to the Slytherin common room is in the other direction," said Dumbledore. "Or maybe you met Peeves in the corridor, and he confounded you both?" Dumbledore said, a small smile lighting his features.

"Well, actually sir," Tom said, annoyed. "We were on our way back to the Slytherin common room but she was feeling sick you see, so we stopped so she could find a bathroom." He pointed behind him to the girls' bathroom. From inside his cloak he sent a nonverbal spell behind him and Bellatrix groaned. Tom turned around to look at her as her face began to turn a pale shade of green. Her face grew damp and after turning to grimace at Dumbledore, she turned and ran into the girls' bathroom.

Dumbledore had a wary look on his face, a knowing look. But nonetheless, he looked defeated.

"Very well. I trust that you will be gone by the time I return." It was not a question. "And transgressors do not need to be dragged through the corridors either, Mr. Riddle."

"But of course, sir," he replied quaintly, and Dumbledore turned to leave. Once he was out of sight Tom opened the door slightly and slipped into the bathroom where he heard distinct sounds of sickness coming from one of the bathroom stalls.

He put several carefully recalled spells on the door then went to go stand behind Bellatrix. Once she was finished a particularly agonizing sounding retch she stood up. Tom pointed his wand at her and counteracted the jinx. He didn't apologize. Bellatrix smiled at him.

"So what did you want to show me?" she asked, and stepped out of the stall. She leaned into him and traced a single finger up his arm, pushing his robes up as she went.

He stepped back and walked over to the sink, his face aglow with passion. He stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes half crazed. He leaned over the sink and his breathing became slightly crazed.

"You will see what power I hold, Bellatrix. You alone will know exactly what is going on at this school. Come closer, Bellatrix," he said, his crazed expression magnifying. She stepped up behind him. He leaned in closer to the sink, almost appearing to be leaning in to kiss it. But then he spoke.

When his mouth opened, nothing compensable came out, at least not to Bellatrix.

"_Open," _he heard himself say as the beautiful language rolled from his tongue; the indication that he was the true heir of Salazar Slytherin.

At the moment he spoke the parseltongue, the entire sink began to morph. The five individual sinks that had been aligned in a circle began to sink into freshly created holes in the floor. Where the sinks had been before now lay a large, gaping hole.

"You first," he told her, and she hesitated only slightly before jumping wildly through the opening, falling in an awkward motion.

He followed soon after, falling in a graceful sweep and landing lightly on his feet several feet below. Bellatrix was sprawled out on the ground next to Tom but then jumped to her feet swiftly.

Tom began walking silently. Bellatrix followed. The winding tunnels were easy for Tom to navigate, as he had explored it several times since he discovered it.

It took several minutes, but when the tunnels started to branch off less and less, Bellatrix passed him and walked ahead as they entered a grand room with green tapestries and large marble columns. When this room-like corridor opened up into a larger space, Bellatrix stopped walking and gaped, a gasp reaching her lips. Tom smiled appreciatively. "You like it?" he asked her, his voice echoing.

She didn't respond.

Her eyes roved the room as if trying to take in every little detail. The columns, the arched dome of a ceiling which reached high above their heads, and the large granite carving in the opposite wall, a replica of Salazar Slytherin himself, or at least the paintings he had seen in history books.

"It's," she began, but merely resumed searching the room as she searched for a word in the large space to describe exactly what it was.

Tom waited patiently. He, too, was reveling in the intensely magical qualities of the room. "Astounding," he finished in his own words.

"But that isn't all I wanted to show you, not by any means." Bellatrix tore her eyes from the room and looked at Tom with a confused expression.

"What do you mean, there's more?" she asked, incredulous.

Tom turned his back on her. "Only the true heir of Salazar Slytherin can do what I am about to do. I'm special, Bellatrix," he said indignantly.

He walked over to two large stone pillars that stood in front of the large face of Slytherin, half submerged in darkness.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but more of the same incomprehensible language that Bellatrix couldn't understand came out.

"_Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."_

Then, all of a sudden, the mouth of the statue began to open, as did the mouth of Bellatrix. The stones scraped against each other as the hole began to inch closer to the floor. Something was rousing inside.

"_Keep your eyes shut," _Riddle said to the hole. Then, it came. A large, brownish-green serpent slithered from the mouth of the statue, its eyes closed tightly, its enormous body coiling in the large puddle beneath it. Water sloshed and hit the hem of Riddle's robes. He turned his back on the magnificent creature at his dispense, and looked over at Bellatrix. He expected her to be even slightly frightened but her eyes were filled with a fiery fervor.

"As you can see, I _am_ the heir of Slytherin. We have the same blood, no matter how diluted it became as of late. I am going to carry on his legacy. I am going to weed out all of the impurities, and I am going to start here at Hogwarts." His eyes were gleaming in an eerie way that almost made them appear to have red hues. Bellatrix's eyes matched his own, and her face looked gaunter than ever. She was bouncing with excitement.

A soft hiss came from the corner, but they paid it no mind.

"Why are you telling me this, Tom?" she asked, taking a bold step by disregarding his newly adopted name. "Why me?"

Tom stepped toward her and took her by the hands. "Can't you see? We share a vision," and he looked over at the snake as if that was the key to her question. "You are my best servant, Bellatrix," he looked back into her eyes. "Bella."

She said nothing, but her eyes were screaming.

His head was unclear, he was thinking slowly. "I need you Bellatrix," he said, carefully yet unintentionally flattering her. He knew that she alone understood his own need not to trust others, to love others, to need others.

But apparently she forgot.

Bellatrix, in a heated daze, leaned forward and breathed in deeply all that was Tom Marvolo Riddle. Her lips attacked his in a frantic sort of way and she thrust her body against his. Her mouth opened and the smell of warm, sweet breath overflowed Tom's senses. Her tongue, as a serpent, worked its way against his lips, forcing themselves upon him, penetrating his lips. He couldn't breathe.

Then, abruptly, he shoved her off and jumped back.

He didn't say anything, but merely stared at her, his disbelief etched upon his face. Bellatrix looked stunned at what she had just done and also a bit vacant. Her eyes seemed distant and her mouth was still partially open. Her head was tilted to one side.

"What do you think you were doing?" Tom exclaimed, losing his composure and finding his voice.

She didn't speak.

"Well?" he demanded. There must be a reasonable explanation that was eluding him. "Tell the truth!"

"I…" she began, but couldn't find the right words. "I thought…" she looked down at her feet. Her pale face began to blush, her cheeks turning a violent pink. It looked as if all the blood had rushed to her head; her legs were shaking slightly.

"You thought what?" he demanded again. He couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot.

"I thought…I thought you wanted me to," she said, her cheeks glowing darker, not looking up from her feet. The hem of her robes was swishing violently with the shaking of her legs.

Understanding crashed upon him. As he stared at her shaking form, he felt no pity for her. She must have known how he felt about her; he thought he made it quite obvious. He thought it was clear that he felt nothing for anyone, ever. That he was detached. That he was alone. He stared at her as she refused to look him in the eyes, as she cowered, as tears welled up in her eyes.

"I've never loved you," he said simply.

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_This was written for kitty-re's "I never loved you" challenge. I put it at the end to surprise you. How do you like it so far?? Good, bad? Review! I promise I won't bite constructive criticism!_


	4. Diary of a Mad Black Woman

I'm ALIVE! Do you guys even remember this story? I am SO sorry it took so long. You guys will like this chapter! It's short because I wanted to get one out as quick as possible and get back in the swing of writing. I hope your interest hasn't dissolved just yet, and this will be a pleasant surprise? Let's see!

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_I can't believe one person can be so incipiently stupid…I swear if I live forever, I will still hate myself for this single act. Or perhaps…not a single act. It's been a gradual progression, my disgusting attachment to him. No wonder he detests me so, the loathsome little creature I am. If only I could crawl into a hole where I belong and wait to die, I don't think I can ever face him again. The shear petulance I possess…I'm repulsive! I can't even look at myself in a mirror, my eyes are so red and swollen. What was I thinking? Nothing! Always living life on sensations and spur of the moment decisions! That is why I don't deserve someone like Tom, someone so perfect. He's going to make this world a better place, hopefully by ridding me of it._

_I try and try to forget him but, I am Tom! He's always, always in my mind; not as a pleasure any more than I am a pleasure to myself, but as my own being! Bellatrix, why must you adore him so? His cold calculating gaze…his brilliance…you will follow him until the end of time, won't you? I must stop, I haven't slept at all tonight for fear his final words replay in my dreams – and I dare not rewrite those words here! Alas, night is over, and the new day begins. Facing him will be a nightmare. My weakness will not be forgiven easily, and I fear where I stand? Can I still be his right hand? Am I still his most faithful servant? Why was I so weak! I have punished myself over and over again by replaying the incident, but never will I be able to feel as I did then. I am numb. My tears have dried but my withered soul still aches. Maybe if I follow all his plans perfectly, maybe - just maybe, he can begin to forgive me. I will do anything he asks of me – anything. I would utter those two wicked words with a smile on my lips and watch the life drain from my own family's lives if only he would have me back - I vow it._

The next week passed in a doleful daze, no meetings, not one word between her and Tom. He never even looked at her. She was so self absorbed with embarrassment and internal hatred that she missed many classes, and slept most of the day. The teachers didn't confront her, it was typical behavior for her to miss classes. But one day, someone noticed her somnolence.

"Bellatrix, you look tired lately," Tom said coldly, his eyes in slits. Rain hammered on the castle walls.

"No more than usual, master," Bellatrix muttered, looking at the floor.

"I must speak with you, Bellatrix," he said that morning while everyone was at breakfast. "Alone."

"Yes master," Bellatrix said, walking with Tom, seeing the floor pass beneath her feet as she walked. When Tom stopped, she looked up. They were in the Common Room. He motioned for her to take a seat. He waved his wands and drew the curtains closed over the soggy grounds and dripping window panes outside.

"Bellatrix, we're both well aware of what happened last night, but we have to put it behind us. I have big plans, and you're a part of them now, if I have to force you into them." Tom passed back and forth before her, then turned away and leaned on the mantel of the fireplace. He stuck his hand in the fireplace and pulled out a small orb of light, flickering in the dark room. The wavering light cast a wicked look over his face and made the skin look taught and gaunt. He coddled the fire, as if it gave him pleasure. "I have another favor to ask of you, Bellatrix," he said softly, though the expression on his face implied a demand.

"Anything!" Bellatrix cried out suddenly, leaning forward in her chair.

"Good," Tom said tersely. He walked closer to her, holding the fire with both hands now. He held the fire out to her, and she glowed. Not only her face, but he whole body felt redeemed. He was offering a peace offering; he forgave her. He trusted her still to give her an important job. She never thought he'd be so forgiving, but she _was _his most loyal servant.

"I'll do anything you ask, Tom," Bellatrix said eagerly, finally looking him in the eye – beseeching, imploring. Tom smiled a peculiar smile, his face a wash of flames.

He looked at her a long while, and she looked back. She felt as though this was what would convince him to trust her again. Finally, he reached out his hands without breaking eye contact, offering her the fire. Her face was triumphant. She took the fire gladly and cradled it in her hands; it warmed her body and seemed as though it were cleansing her, draining her of her pain.

Tom's smile began to grow larger as he saw her face release the tension she had been holding since that fateful night in the Chamber of Secrets. Then, his smile turned wicked in the dark glow of the fire. Rain hammered down on the windows harder still, as if trying to extinguish the warmth in her hands. When Tom opened his mouth, his words were clearly distinguishable. "You are marrying Rodolphus Lestrange." He looked at her blank face, her open mouth. Though she stared ahead of her, she heard his footsteps slightly over the sound of the hammering rain, walking slowly toward the exit of the common room, then disappear. She cried out in a horrifying shriek of agony.

The fire burned her.


End file.
